Ms Rookwood
by CoolyCass
Summary: Madeleine Rookwood, Slytherin Prefect and all-round good student, finds herself in a position she hoped to never be in. Just a short little prologue for a story that'll likely never continue.


**[Hey-hey! This is the start of a story I'll likely never continue. Just wanted to write something. Hope you enjoy the little there is!]**

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Damp, cold, and dark. Those were the three words that perfectly described the room Madeleine Rookwood had woken to. The last thing she remembered was walking back to The Leaky Cauldron, after having finished working at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. This place was nowhere near as inviting as Diagon Alley. She stood up, and looked around the room, hoping to find even some small speck of light, or something else that might lead her to escape. She noticed a dim yellow flickering coming from what looked like a crack in the ceiling and crept over to it, being careful not to make too much noise.

As she approached the light, she froze. She could hear voices coming from the other side of what must have been a door. They were too quiet to make out, and as she once again started to make her way towards the light, a brilliant flash of green shot across the crack. The thud that shortly followed was a telltale sign of what had caused the light. Madeleine gasped, and stepped away from the door. Unable to see in the darkness, though, her foot became caught in some unknown debris. She fell to the ground, causing a slight ruckus as whatever she'd caught herself on clattered across the floor. One of the voices laughed, and Madeleine heard footsteps approaching the door above her. Stuck where she was sitting, Madeleine barely flinched as the door was wrenched open and the dim light made the room clearer.

From what she could gather, she was in a cellar of some disrepair. All sorts of furnishing littered the floor, and decorations that belonged one shelve and mantelpieces had been strewn about the room haphazardly, broken as if they had simply been thrown in. There were some photo frames on the floor and, judging by the completely still images within them, this must have been a muggle house at some point. As she reached over to look more closely at one of the photos, a scratchy, weak voice found it's way into the room, "Ms Rookwood, your presence is required."

Shivering, Madeleine picked herself up off the floor and made her way out of the cellar. The room she found herself in was almost bare. Aside from herself, the things inhabiting the room were a lit fireplace, a pair of very old looking armchairs, and the mangiest looking man Madeleine had ever seen before. "Ah, welcome, Madeleine. Please, take a seat." The same scratchy voice spoke, and as Madeleine opened her mouth, she realised the voice had not come from the man, but from the chair he was standing beside. Looking down into its seat, Madeleine made a horrid yelping sound.

In the seat of the chair was one of the most hideous creatures she'd ever seen. It had the appearance of an infant that had aged severely in a short time. The skin was sickly and pale, and the hands and legs of it were grossly misshapen and overlarge for its body. While its body was wrapped fairly heavily in a dark cloak, obscuring much of its face, the piercing snake-like eyes almost glowed a terrible red. Evidently, the thing was amused with her reaction, as it laughed - and, Madeleine realised, it was what had laughed after she'd fallen earlier.

"Come, dear girl, sit. There is no need to fear. Wormtail!" The creature snapped, causing the mangy man to flinch heavily, "Where are your manners? Please, show the young lady to her seat."

Bowing to the creature, the man pulled the other chair around so it faced the fireplace, and gestured for her to sit. As she sat, the man spoke, "The D-Dark Lord wishes to speak w-with you."

"The Dark Lo... You're-"

"Yes, my child. I have returned. Or, rather, I am returning." Voldemort smiled, though there was no joy to it. "It is why I have asked Wormtail to bring you here tonight. I believe I will require some assistance to ensure my return goes... smoothly."

Madeleine gripped the arms of the chair tightly, a cold sweat starting to spread over her. This was one of the things she hoped would never happen. She'd heard stories about the Dark Lord, of course. It was natural, given the state of things in the world. Her father having been one of his Death Eaters made those stories all the more common, whether the people sharing also had family in the same position and believed her to be some kind of kindred spirit, or whether they'd merely use the stories as an excuse to get at her, 'Junior Death Eater' that she must be. He was a cruel and wicked man, and certainly one she'd hoped was truly gone. He was a person she never wished to face nor serve. Yet if this abomination before her was truly him, she didn't have much of a choice. She doubted he'd let her live if she refused, and it wasn't like she was somebody who mattered, somebody who would be looked into if she went missing.

Madeleine's grip loosened on the chair as she spoke, "Anything for you, my Lord."

"Excellent, child. Now we will talk. The night is young, but there is much I must tell you." Madeleine nodded obediently as he spoke. The Dark Lord told her about the dark magic he would have to use to regain his body ("An unfortunate necessity, as Dumbledore has no doubt destroyed the Philosopher's Stone."), how he had already planted a loyal Death Eater as a staff member at Hogwarts this year ("Crouch is clearly unstable, but he is loyal and an excellent performer. He will do well."), and how he planned to attain the blood he needed from Harry Potter.

The last part was fairly intriguing, if perhaps incredibly convoluted and risky. Relying on Potter to get through every task of the Triwizard Tournament seemed incredibly reckless to Madeleine. When she had accidentally made her thoughts on the matter known, Voldemort had simply laughed. "I understand your doubts, Ms Rookwood, truly. But the boy is fiendishly lucky, and I believe I would be foolish to doubt his success. Even so, he will be helped along the way by Crouch and yourself."

"My Lord?" Madeleine looked up, trying and failing again to suppress the urge to cringe when she saw Voldemort's body. While she had assumed that Crouch would help the boy, she didn't know what she would be able to do. She was, after all, a Slytherin two years his senior. There was no reasonable way to have her even so much as talk to him.

"Oh, did I not mention it?" The Dark Lord asked, obviously rhetorically. "See, my dear Madeleine, Potter will not be the only Hogwarts entrant into the tournament. Crouch has said that he can assure Potter's entrance by placing him under a fourth party. He has also said, however, that he can assure your entrance, as well. You will be taking part in the Triwizard Tournament, Ms Rookwood. Savour it. Eternal glory will be yours to win."

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 **[Ta-da! All done. I do have ideas on where to take this (both in story and word-count-per-chapter) but I'm kinda rubbish at sticking to writing. But I wanted to publish this for the sake of it.]**


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